


we’re the asteroid (that’s overdue)

by ShippingEverything



Series: Can We Be Seventeen? [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- Heathers, Alternate Universe- Murder, F/M, If you've seen Heathers then you sort of know what to expect. sort of., Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine Thenardier just wants to protect her friends, get the guy of her dreams, and survive senior year. Instead she gets inducted into The Jeans and a body count for her teenage angst.<br/><i>God, high school is hard.</i></p><p>Or: The Heathers au that you didn't know you wanted</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you hope you dream you pray

**Author's Note:**

> a few warnings before we begin: several of the amis are antagonists. as such, i've taken their bad traits and amplified them--so enjolras is 100% a dick, combeferre is manipulative and controlling, courfeyrac is ditzy and mean, and jehan is... something else entirely. also, this doesn't follow the structure of either the movie _or_ the musical for _several_ reasons, including but not limited to: there are 4 "Heathers" and eponine is no veronica sawyer. Um, also, unaccented spelling of Ep's name because I am 1. hella lazy, and 2. its placed in america so maybe they would do the accents???? idk man, i just forgot about them.
> 
> i have half of this written and i plan to post once a week on fridays, so! lets see how this goes!
> 
> please enjoy!

Eponine Thenardier isn’t a saint, she knows this. She doesn’t pretend to be perfect, to be squeaky clean, and no one expects her to. She may not be a ‘Good person’, but she sure as hell isn’t a bad person. Her classmates don’t bother her much, whether it’s because they’re scared of her or because they just don’t care, and that’s fine by her. The only thing is-

_Crash!_

-They _do_ bother other people. People she likes.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going, Pontmercy.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Eponine rolls her eyes and goes to help the freckled boy pick up his stuff.

Marius Pontmercy, quite possibly the ginger-est ginger in existence, beams up at her, and if her stomach flips then, well, that isn’t really anyone’s business anyway.

“Hi ‘Ponine!” He says, happily, because he does _everything_ happily, with his huge eyes glittering and his freckles being scrunched into smile lines as he grins. “Thanks for helping. People just keep bumping into me lately! Maybe I’m just clumsy?”

Eponine rolls her eyes. Marius’ insistent belief in the goodness of their classmates is ridiculous and endearing. “Yeah, maybe.”

They’ve just finished gathering up all of his stuff when Bahorel comes by and knocks it over again.

“What the fuck, Bahorel?” Eponine has to physically restrain herself from growling. It’s difficult.

Bahorel turns around, because he _is_ the kind of douchebag that dumps someone else’s books and food on the ground and then feels no remorse. “What did you say, bitch?”

“She said, ‘what the fuck?’, do you need hearing aids or something, Bahorel?” A deep, carefully casual voice asks. Grantaire, hands covered in charcoal and smelling of smoke, steps in front of Eponine.

“R, what are you _doing_?” Eponine hisses.

“Calm down, ‘Ponine,” Grantaire says and an easy, totally fake smile graces his face. His voice is tinted with forced amusement as he continues, “I mean, I know you’ve been in school forever, but I didn’t think you were _that_ old.”

“I don’t need some stoner making fun of me,” Bahorel growls, grabbing the front of Grantaire’s shirt.

“Now, now,” Grantaire hurriedly starts as Bahorel pulls his fist back, “There’s no need to resort to violence. I didn’t mean anything by it, you know how us stoners are, never paying attention to what we’re saying; not to imply that you-“

Grantaire is cut off; not by a fist, but by an airy, not-quite-all-there voice.

“That’s not a very nice thing to do, Bahorel.”

Eponine mentally groans. Now, not only is _Grantaire_ trying to play savior, but the Jeans are too.

Jean “Jehan” Prouvaire is the one who’s spoken. He’s a bit out there, but he’s a Junior who’ll smile and agree and do the other Jeans’ homework; he’s lithe and delicate-looking, with long, strawberry blonde hair and soft splatterings of freckles.

“I mean, Grantaire probably deserves it, but still, _mean_.”

Jean de Courfeyrac: Funny, social chair of the student council and about nine other clubs, definitely at least half-Latino, and Eponine isn’t exactly sure why the he stays with the Jeans when the response to him saying something is usually-

“Shut _up_ , Jean,” A deep, sure voice growls. “We don’t condone that kind of behavior.”

And that’s Jean Combeferre, who is utterly terrifying, probably 6’3, and crazy smart. One time, someone made a joke about him playing basketball because he’s tall and black, and Combeferre had stared them down until they _cried_.

“Of course not!” The final Jean chimes, his voice making the cafeteria chatter stop. Eponine’s doesn’t exactly get it--she thinks his voice is remarkably normal--but she’s been assured many, _many_ times that his voice is the ‘vocal equivalent of _ambrosia_ , ‘Ponine, it’s not _fair_.’ Jean Enjolras steps forward and flips his blond ponytail over his shoulder. “Bahorel, I cannot believe that _you_ , of all people, would say something so _demeaning_ to someone who’s _obviously_ less fortunate than you.”

Typical Enjolras, making something ‘nice’ sound ridiculously demeaning. Eponine sort of gets the appeal, understands why people stop and stare when he walks down halls--he’s your basic All-American, blond with blue eyes and long lashes, but he’s pretty in a classical sort of way that doesn’t interest Eponine.

That may have something to do with the fact that he has the gift of being able to be a huge dick to literally everyone, even when he’s trying to ‘defend’ them.

Bahorel stutters out some kind of excuse—because what else can you do when faced with Jehan’s pout, Combeferre’s unimpressed look, and Enjolras’ disappointed glare?—and scurries off. After seeing that Bahorel isn’t going to come back over, Enjolras turns to Marius and Eponine.

“Are you two okay?”

Eponine squints at him. “We’re not the ones that got manhandled in front of the whole lunchroom.”

“Yeah, no, that’d be me. Hi, Apollo.”

Enjolras looks over at Grantaire and his face flashes with-- Nerves? Guilt? An emotion that, surprisingly enough, _isn’t_ righteous fury? “Hello, Grantaire.”

“Right, well, he looks fine.” Combeferre grabs Enjolras’ arm, shooting a glare at Eponine. “We’re leaving.”

Combeferre pulls Enjolras away, the other two Jeans following along like ducklings. Eponine rolls her eyes and leads the boys to their lunch table. _At least_ , She thinks, _This week has already reached it’s max weirdness. It literally cannot get weirder than this._

* * *

 

Okay, so Eponine’s ‘This week can’t be weirder’ thing _might_ have been a bit misguided.

She’s in the unused locker room, ditching second bell, when the Jeans come in and Jehan starts washing his hair. She pulls out her phone to check that, yes, it’s still a weekday and still during school hours. When she looks back up, Courfeyrac is right in front of her.

“ _Oh Jesus Christ what the fucking hell_ ,” She starts, nearly falling off her perch on the sink. Courfeyrac just grins at her.

“You’re angry girl, from the Caf!” Courfeyrac waves someone over and- oh, god, it’s Combeferre. “Jean, look, it’s angry girl!”

Combeferre’s ‘Shut up, Jean,’ is said almost like a reflex. “You’re the one that yelled at Bahorel. We’ve been looking for a reason to chastise him for a while, so thank you for that.”

Eponine blinks. “You’re…welcome?”

Neither Courfeyrac nor Combeferre speak. Eponine can hear Jehan softly singing some vaguely familiar pop song. Enjolras is helping Jehan massage conditioner into his scalp, as if it’s a normal thing to do.

 _I was totally wrong, this week just got a fuck-ton weirder_.

“Anyway,” Courfeyrac says finally, with another picture perfect grin, “I hear you can forge signatures? Jehan kind of had a hair emergency and we had to help him, so if you could write us passes for Official Student Council Business, that’d be wonderful.”

Eponine sighs, because _of course_ , everyone knows about her less-than-legal activities. She pulls a plain post-it out of her bag and mimics the student council advisor’s handwriting quickly, then hands the sheet to Courfeyrac. “Good?”

“Awesome!” Courfeyrac looks at Combeferre for a second and pulls several exaggerated faces, then turns around and starts making gestures at Enjolras (who is, inexplicably, pulling a fluffy yellow towel out of his bag).

“So,” He says, “You wanna sit with us sometime?”

“What?” Eponine is suspicious because the Jeans have prime Caf real estate, and they never let people sit at their (unnecessarily large) table. The last time they let someone new sit with them was when Jehan joined up. “Are you asking me to change my name to Jean? Because I’d _really_ rather not.”

Courfeyrac laughs. Combeferre scowls.

“We’re making a polite offer because you’ve assisted us,” Combeferre says, and he sounds nearly human. “And having a feminine figure, especially one with your talents and background, in our group could be beneficial.”

_Whoop, there it is._

“Also, you’re like, really hot?” Courfeyrac adds. “Or, you could be. You will be, when we’re done with you.”

Enjolras, Jehan, and Combeferre say “Shut up, Jean” in perfect harmony.

Jehan and Enjolras have joined the ‘Crowd around Eponine like she’s a museum exhibit’ party, and they each look at her imploringly.

 _What the hell_ , she thinks. “Why not?”

An hour and a half later, Jehan has been sent on a clothing run, they’ve done _something_ to her hair to make it look shiny and flowy and nice, and she’s been taught how to walk in heels by, surprisingly enough, Combeferre. She’s fine--mildly confused and dazed, but fine. Until they get to the Caf, at least, because then people are staring at her.

Not the normal, gossip-y and vaguely scared looks, but in the way people stare at movie stars. She reaches up to pull on her hair, but her hand is pushed down by Enjolras.

“Don’t. Taming your hair took far too long for you to ruin it with your careless hands.”

Eponine is only mildly offended. She figures this is a step up from earlier, when she was scowling at every other word out of his mouth. “But they’re all staring.”

“It’s because you look like hell on wheels, Ep!” Courfeyrac crows, blowing kisses at the crowd. “Told you we’d make you hot.”

Eponine is proud to say that she joins in on the “Shut up, Jean” chorus that follows.


	2. come on whatcha waitin' for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I know you guys don’t know Grantaire, but this will destroy him.”_
> 
> _Combeferre narrows his eyes. “Are we going to have a problem?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit longer because i need to lead into montparnasse and im PUMPED. also this chap we get to see more of the Jeans dynamic and also another way this fic is different from the real Heathers

Even after three weeks, it still hasn’t worn off; it’s actually gotten _worse_. People still stop and stare when she walks down the hall--whether she’s with the Jeans or not--and now they also smile at her and offer her hair ties or pencils or human organs or _anything_ , just so that they can get on the Jeans’ good side. People don’t ‘accidentally’ bump into Marius if she’s within range. It’s suddenly like she’s some sort of untouchable goddess.

It’s like she’s _popular_.

Her musing is interrupted by Grantaire throwing a paper airplane at her.

“What do you want, R?” She asks as she unfolds it—it’s a sketch of Enjolras, unsurprisingly.

“What, I can’t come bother you without ulterior motives?” Grantaire grins at her, “You _are_ my favorite cool kid, after all.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

Grantaire makes a wounded face and clutches his hand to his chest. She blinks at him, unimpressed. He rolls his eyes. “Okay, so it’s mostly because Marius is bummed out that you missed movie night last week.”

Her heart flips. “He’s bummed out?”

“Well, his exact words were,” He clears his throat and puts on an exaggeratedly squeaky voice, “‘Ponine can’t make it again? Oh. Well. I hope she’s having fun with her new friends…’ But hey, I can read between the lines.”

“Well,” Eponine can feel that she’s smiling, and she can only hope it doesn’t look as love-struck as she feels, “I had to help the Jeans finalize plans for some fundraiser, even though I’m not even _in_ StuCo, but, next week-“

“Eponine!”

Eponine doesn’t jump but it’s a close thing. Apparently, spending more time with Combeferre does _not_  stop him from being terrifying. Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Combeferre have suddenly appeared and Grantaire has vanished, despite--or maybe because of--Enjolras not being with them. She feels a minute pang of guilt.

“Yeah?”

“I need a love letter, Enjolras’ handwriting. Jean, bend over so she can write on your back.” Combeferre says and Courfeyrac complies—she still doesn’t know how they can tell which ‘Jean’ is being referenced but they apparently can. Combeferre hands her a piece of blue paper, decorated with swirls and stars, and a bright red felt pen. This isn’t the first time that she’s been asked to make a fake love letter from Enjolras--nearly half the school is in love with him and the Jeans revel in embarrassing others--but it is the first time that the paper isn’t pink and/or rose-scented. “Make it say… ‘My sister and I are throwing a party this Friday, and it won’t be the same without you...’ and…”

“Oh, oh,” Jehan pulls out his poetry notebook and flips a few pages. “How about ‘My heart aches for your being, my soul aches for your presence?”

Combeferre nods, “And sign it normally, with a heart. Or, better yet, sign it ‘Your muse, your sun, your Apollo’.”

The Jeans snicker and Eponine drops the pen, but it’s too late; she’s already finished writing. “This is going to Grantaire?”

Courfeyrac takes the note, looks it over, and grins. “Duh. And god, can you imagine the look on his face when he sees it?”

Eponine can. He’ll blink and blush and try not to smile, but his face will break into the huge, glowing grin that he always gets around Enjolras. She can also imagine his face when he goes to the party and falls prey to the Jeans’ plot. Her heart clenches. “But Grantaire’s been in love with Enjolras for like, _forever_.”

“I know!" Courfeyrac grins, bouncing happily, "Usually the girls have little puppy crushes, but this’ll be _amazing_.”

“You can’t do this.” Eponine grabs the note back from Courfeyrac and turns to Combeferre, because he _must_ understand that this is a bad idea. “I know you guys don’t know Grantaire, but this will destroy him.”

Combeferre narrows his eyes. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“What? No, not really, but R- He’s got a _lot_ of stuff going on and he deserves better than this.” He also deserves better than a best friend that’s been dodging his calls since she got pick by the cool kids, that he had to _track down in the quad_ with information about her crush just so that she would give him the time of day, but that was beside the point. “And like, shouldn’t Enjolras be in on this? Since he’s the leader or whatever?”

Courfeyrac snorts, “You think Jean’s in charge? Like, after weeks, you _still_ think Jean’s in charge?”

Eponine blinks and furrows her brow because, well, she did? Enjolras always told the other Jeans what to do and who they were going to terrorize and he made the rules on what Jeans were and were not allowed to do, and Eponine had been _pretty sure_  that that was the definition of a leader.

“He’s like…” Jehan trails off, waving his hand in the air and searching for the right word, “Like our King. He stands in as our face and it seems like he makes all the decisions, but he’s not really in charge. He’s our figurehead.”

And that meant that their ‘prime minister’ was… Combeferre? That’s… Well, it makes sense, actually, now that she’s thinking about it. Combeferre looks like a perfect second-in-command, but the other Jeans seem to look at him for guidance more than they look to Enjolras.

“But-”

“I get it, Eponine, he was your friend or whatever.” Combeferre waves his hand, as if the idea of actually having and caring about friends is abstract to him. “But you’re not someone who hangs out with stoner artists who are going to end up face down in the gutter in a few years, not anymore. You’re one of us now, and I _suggest_ you start acting like it, before I forget about the advantages of having you in our group at all.”

Eponine knows what she should do: She should tell Combeferre to go fuck himself, she should rip up the note, she should go find Grantaire and hang out with him and remind him that Enjolras is a dickbag who’s not worth his spit--because there’s no way that Marius has been doing it--but-

But she _likes_ being noticed in the good way. She likes people smiling at her, people giving her things, people actually trying to talk to her.

She swallows around the lump in her throat and hands Combeferre the note.

“Yeah. Got it. I’m a Jean now.”

* * *

 

Grantaire finds Eponine one day after the final bell.

"Ah, dear Eponine, is the sky bluer?" He twirls her around, nearly knocking down three people. "Do the lights look brighter? Are the crowds less noisy on this most lovely afternoon?" 

Eponine smiles, glad to see her friend in such a good mood. "Have you caught the optimism? I told you that hanging around Marius was a bad idea."

“No, no, much better,” He giggles, honest to god giggles, and clasps his hand together. “I got a note, from Apollo himself!"

Eponine freezes. It's the day of the party, and she had half-fooled herself into believing that the Jeans had changed their minds. "Oh?" She asks, faux casual. "What does it say?"

"He invited me to his party!" Grantaire says, and he's glowing, just like she thought he would. "You know, this means he's been thinking about me. Do you... Do you think he misses me? Maybe?"

"Grantaire," She starts, only for him to cut in. 

"I know you don't think he's worth pining over, but oh  'Ponine, I'm so  _ happy _ ." 

Eponine swallows around the lump in her throat and offers him a shaky smile. "Color me stoked."

He beams back at her and she feels sick. 

He waltzes away and Eponine turns on her heel--because she needs to find the Jeans, she needs to get them to  _ stop this _ \--and runs directly into Bahorel. 

_ Goddamn it.  _

"Oh look, it's the bitch from the other day. The Jeans aren't here to protect you now, are they?" 

She tries to ignore him and walk away, because Jehan just did her nail polish and she really doesn't want to mess it up with blood, but Feuilly is right there to block her. 

"Hey now, my friend asked you a question." Feuilly says, voice dripping with sickeningly fake sweetness, "Just because you're fucking a Jean-"

"What?" Eponine asks, but she doesn't expect an answer because  _ of course _ that's what people think, and, she gets it; if some other nobody had started hanging out with the Jeans a month ago, Eponine probably would've assumed that she was banging them, okay, but  _ what the fuck _ .

"You heard me, slut."

And that's  _ it _ . She's breaking at least one nose today. She's putting down her bag so it doesn't get in the way of her destroying these asswipes, when a voice cuts in.

"Y-You shouldn't talk to a lady like that!" 

The small crowd that's gathered whips around to see... None other than fucking  _ Marius  _ pushing his way to the front. 

"'Ponine is really nice," He says, stepping in front of her, "And definitely not a- a- a what you just called her. You should apologize."

Eponine is flattered, really, and in any other situation she'd be swooning, but she's getting  _ really fucking tired _ of men thinking they can fight for her. "Thank you, Marius," She says instead, "But I've got this."

Marius shoots her a concerned look over his shoulder. "But, they were saying mean stuff? Don't you want help?"

"I'm fine. Leave."

Marius still looks indecisive and that's when Bahorel says "Oh, are you screwing this one too? How many guys have you let into your bed,  _ 'Ponine _ ?"

He spits out the nickname, like it's a poison barb and something snaps. She throws down her bag and shrugs off her jacket. She shoves Marius out of the way. She walks up to Bahorel, gets right in his face, and swings a powerful left hook at his nose. 

The loud crack it makes in the sudden shocked silence is incredibly pleasing.

"Say something like that to me again and I'll break your fucking ribs," Eponine says, ignoring the glares that Feuilly is throwing her between fussing over Bahorel's gushing nose. 

She grabs Marius, her bag, and her jacket and walks off. The click of her heels in still-stunned silence is even nicer.

When they're a decent distance away from the school, Eponine stops.

"I don't need anyone to protect me or defend my honor," She says, and Marius nods jerkily and looks incredibly shocked.

"You don't have to stand up to bullies and fight for me, okay?" Marius nods again and she smiles slightly. Despite it all, it was... _nice_ , to have someone that _would_ fight for her. She makes a split-second decision and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. "But... Thank you. For being willing to."

Marius flushes brightly and rushes off, mumbling about something he needs to do, nearly running into three different lampposts. Eponine grins and decides to walk the rest of the way to Speedway. 

Some chocolate would compliment her current mood nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i compared enj to a king, and yes i feel regret


	3. shatter your skull, fight pain with more pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahaha i forgot to publish this yikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, my favorite broadway show (besides les mis) is closing and im emotional

There's a boy stealing slushies.

This, surprisingly enough, is pretty normal; the shop owner doesn't come to the front unless someone rings the bell or screams, and the security system at hasn't worked since the 50's, so people with no money and intense cravings tend to make sure that Mr. Myriel loses more money then he makes. The guy’s apparently a rich ex-television preacher, so he doesn't really care or, at least, he doesn't care enough to press charges. So, it's not that weird to see someone stealing slushies.

It is, however, incredibly weird to see a guy in a _leather jacket_ \-- a real leather jacket, even though it's still 80 degrees on most days -- stealing six cups worth of slush.

"That's... A lot of slush." Eponine says, because it's kind of awkward to just stand there and watch him and, well, weird kid is kind of hot. Eponine may be sort of in love, but she isn't blind.

Weird kid looks at her like she's the one that's making a ridiculous number of slushies. "You must be new around here."

"I think that's my line. Eponine Thenardier, I've lived here my whole life."

" _Yikes_. That must've sucked." He offers her what is probably meant to be a grin, but looks more like a crooked smirk. "I'm Montparnasse.”

“Just Montparnasse?”

“Just Montparnasse,” He confirms, “Like Cher or Beyonce."

Eponine leans on the counter. “So, 'just Montparnasse', why are you stealing slushies?"

Montparnasse shoots her another sharp smile-smirk. "I like the brain freezes."

Eponine scoffs and Montparnasse responds by lifting the cup he'd been filling and downing the whole thing in less than 5 seconds. He cringes so hard that Eponine presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth in solidarity.

"Why would you do that?"

He wipes off his mouth, "I've been to ten high schools in the last 3 years. It's either this or smoking, and I hear lung cancer isn't fun."

Eponine nods because she gets it. She thinks that Montparnasse might be overreacting to his situation, but most white boys that wear all black in 80+ degree weather are dramatic, and he's a refreshing change from the Jeans' bad social justice bitching.

"Do your parents know you spend your spare time stealing from Old Man Myriel?"

"Mom's dead, dad would applaud me," He shoots back without missing a beat, "Your parents know you talk to random boys in Speedways?"

Eponine shrugs, "Dad wouldn't care, mom would ask how much I managed to con out of you."

"And how much have you managed to con out of me?"

"Well, I got your name and,” She shakes the previously unseen cup in her hands, “I've been drinking this for the last fifteen minutes, so."

Montparnasse smiles, "Nicely played, Eponine Thenardier"

"Why thank you, Just Montparnasse."

"Hey, do you want to-" Montparnasse starts before 'Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy,' starts blaring out of her phone and cuts him off. Eponine makes a general _Sorry, I have to get this_ motion and picks up.

"Where are you? We're at your house and your mom said you never came home! Please say you're not dead, because that would really put a damper on Jean's party," Courfeyrac's tinny voice shouts.

"I'm not dead," Eponine sighs, "I'm just at Speedway."

Courfeyrac makes this happy screaming sound. "Oh-em-gosh, Ep, grab me a Hershey's bar?"

"And some soda!" A voice that's probably Jehan says.

There's a shuffling noise and then Combeferre says, "And corn nuts. Don't forget the corn nuts."

"Anything else, your highness?" Eponine asks, rolling her eyes.

"Hm, no, I think that's all. We'll be there to pick you up in ten."

Combeferre hangs up before she can reply.

"Hey, sorry I just-" She blinks. Montparnasse is gone, along with the 8 cups of slush. _God,_ she sighs, _My life is so weird._


	4. when people laugh but not at you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The folks are gone, it's time for big fun! (Big fun!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really emotional i'm sorry

When they get to Enjolras’ house, Cosette answers the door. Cosette is Enjolras’... Sister? Maybe twin? They’re never quite clear about it and they have different legal last names but they live together with their father figure, they look nearly the same, and Cosette and Enjolras respond even if the wrong last name is used, so everyone just assumes that they’re actually related.

“Oh-em-gosh, Ep!” Cosette says, bubbly and loud, throwing her arms around Eponine, the giant pink bow on her hair rubbing against Eponine's cheek. “It’s been, like, forever!”

 _Well, that’s not exactly my fault_ , Eponine thinks, but then, it isn’t Cosette’s fault that she ended up being as pretty and popular and cherub-esque as her brother. Eponine and Cosette had been friends back when Cosette still went by ‘Euphrasie’, but then the middle school hierarchy had happened and Cosette became a cheerleader while Eponine became a goth-emo-scary kid and, as young Cosette had said, ‘A cheerleader can’t be seen with _all_ types of people, surely you understand,’ so that was that.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eponine says, and it’s… not entirely insincere? Cosette _is_ nice, if a bit too focused on her social standing and a bit too _much_.

Cosette giggles, clutches Eponine’s arm, and let’s her inside, sparing a quick, “And hello Jean!” meant for all three of the boys. She drags Eponine to their kitchen where-- _Oh god_ \--Mr. Valjean and Officer Javert are arguing over coffee.

“Papa!” Cosette crows, and Mr. Valjean’s scowl turns into a grin, “Eponine is here! And the Jeans are here too, but they’re probably already in Jean’s room.”

Eponine looks over her shoulder to find that the Jeans _have_ abandoned her. _What fucking dickbags._

The thought is taken back a second later when Enjolras comes storming to the kitchen and grabs her other arm. His grip is just as tight as Cosette’s, and just as painful, but his “Get off of _my_ friend, Cosette,” is infinitely reassuring.

Cosette scowls and it seems like Eponine is about to be in the middle of a sibling fight, when Javert stands up and says, “We should be going, Valjean.”

“If Enjolras and Cosette would stop acting like they’re children,” Mr. Valjean says, somehow not making it sound like a reprimand. Cosette and Enjolras both drop her arms, grumbling simultaneously. Valjean smiles. “Good. Now, you both know the rules; no drinking, Cosette can’t have boys over, and please act your ages.”

Cosette and Enjolras look suitably angelic and chorus, “Yes, papa,” and Valjean and Javert are off. As soon as they leave, Enjolras whistles and the Jeans run into the kitchen carrying loads of cheap beer and vodka and assorted snacks.

Eponine blinks because, well, they _did_ say it was going to be a party, but she didn’t think there would be that _much_. “Didn’t you just promise Valjean that you wouldn’t drink?”

“And we won’t! He didn’t say no alcohol, though,” Cosette giggles, “We keep our promises to papa. Neither of us will drink, all the boys have been invited by Enjolras and-”

“And,” Interrupts Courfeyrac, “He told us to act our age, so let’s rage!"

* * *

 

Despite Courfeyrac's outdated terminology, people began arriving and the party did rage.

"This is great!" Jehan screams right the fuck in Eponine's ear. "Do you know how to make a shot, Epinon- Epony- Ep?"

Courfeyrac, who has had more drinks then Jehan and has even worse tolerance, nods excitedly. "I do! It's... Lime, then salt, then," He draws out the word, clearly struggling to remember the next step. Eponine sighs.

"Shot. That's the word you're looking for. And you have it in the wrong order."

Courfeyrac furrows his nose until Jehan makes an excited noise and pours himself a shot to try and demonstrate.

"Okay, okay, okay," Jehan waves his arms, sloshing the drink around, " _Okay_ , it's salt, then lime, _then_ shot."

"You're doing it _wrong_ ," Combeferre snaps, even as Courfeyrac and Jehan follow the flawed instructions and fall into giggles. Combeferre scowls. "Try to sober up. Grantaire is here."

 _Shit_. Grantaire is there, standing near the door with a bottle of schnapps and the fucking note. Combeferre gets up and Eponine, panicked, screams, “Jean! I think there are freshmen trying to get into the wine cellar!”

Combeferre growls something about ‘Fucking _freshmen_ ,’ and turns on his heel. Eponine sighs in relief and goes to intercept Grantaire.

“You actually came.”

Grantaire grins at her, fidgeting with nervousness. “Yeah, I did. I wasn't going to, but Marius said he would come too, but he ditched me because I think he saw someone he knows?”

Eponine sighs. “I’ll check on him later.”

“So,” Grantaire says, after a moment of pause, “Where are the Jeans?”

“Enjolras is in the kitchen, making sure no one steals their food,” Eponine doesn’t really want to expose Grantaire to Enjolras, but she also doesn’t want him out here like a sitting duck for Combeferre. Grantaire’s grin is blinding.

“You’re the absolute best, ‘Ponine!”

Eponine sighs at his back. Time to find Marius.

* * *

 

Marius is doing shots when she finds him, which, _great_.

“‘Ponine!” He screams, clutching her and making her heart beat twice as fast, “‘Ponine, I need you!”

Eponine flushes, especially as those around them start to laugh and catcall. “Marius, you’re drunk.”

“Nuh-uh!” Marius vehemently claims, before grinning, “And I do need you! I saw the _prettiest girl ever_.”

“Oh.” Eponine says, heart dropping to her feet.

“This is no ‘oh’ moment, ‘Ponine; it’s like… my whole life has been touched by light! I have not lived until I saw her!”

“Who?” Eponine asks, because hey, at the very least she needs to know who’s life she needs to make hell on Monday.

“I,” Marius droops dangerously, looking close to tears, “I don’t know. But! That’s why I need you!” He grabs Eponine’s hands and spins her around, “You know your way around, surely you know the golden goddess that has captured my heart? She had on the prettiest pink bow, oh, 'Ponine...”

Eponine’s heart stops, because _Of-fucking-course_ , because ‘golden goddess’ can honestly only mean one person and the bow is a huge tip off, because of course Marius would fall in love with _Cosette_ of all people. Even when Eponine has nearly everything, Cosette still gets the one thing she really wants. Eponine swallows around the lump in her throat and looks up into Marius’ wide, earnest eyes.

“Sorry, I don’t know anyone like that,” She says with fake sincerity, “I’ll keep an eye out though?”


	5. so the world's unfair, keep it locked out there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No sleep tonight for you, better chug that Mountain Dew! / Get your ass in gear, make this whole town disappear!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for dubious consent but its nothing explicit, check end notes for more info

Eponine has 3 large cups of vodka before the person guarding the alcohol table--not Enjolras, for some reason, and if everything wasn’t so fuzzy then Eponine might wonder where he went--cuts her off. She leaves the party, ignoring Combeferre glaring at her from the corner, probably because Grantaire is missing. On her way out, she spares a drunken wish to the stars. 

_ I wish everything could just fucking  _ not, she wishes,  _ I wish this whole town would just disappear _ . When she’s been walking for a long time--she doesn’t know how long--she stumbles into a motorcycle. It is, thankfully, stationary, so she isn’t crushed or ran over but it’s manned by a sort of familiar, leather jacket-clad form. 

“Manpartness! I mean, Mahpahnah- Monper- Mah- Pretty boy!”

“Eponine? How did you get to my house?”

Eponine blinks at the house-shaped blur to her left. “This is your house?”

Montparnasse steadies her with a hand on the shoulder and frowns. “You’re wasted.”

“And  _ you _ are cute,” She says, then, “You should kiss me, because you keep looking at my lips and I’m not sure how much longer this lipstick will last.”

“You’re drunk,” He says, but his cheeks are flushed and he’s still looking at her lips. 

Eponine snorts. “I’m  _ consenting _ . Enjy talks about the importance of consent  _ all the time _ , even if he gets the facts wrong sometimes, and I’m  _ most  _ enthusiastically consenting,” He still looks unsure, so she kisses him softly and says, “I had a shitty night, pretty boy. Make me forget about it.”

Montparnasse kisses like he’s dehydrated and her lips are the last drop of water in the world, like he’s dying and needs her to live. It’s a welcome change from the usual sort of guys that kiss Eponine, who shove their tongues down her throat sloppily. She jumps when his hands move from her face, her hair, her neck, to her ass. 

“Shit, sorry, I-”

“Hold on, pretty boy,” Eponine grins, feeling powerful and sexy and strong, “I’m still all for this, and I’ve been on the pill since I was twelve.”

Montparnasse flounders, so she grinds into him. “Okay,” He says, “Let’s go to my room.”

* * *

 

After two  _ extremely _ satisfying rounds, Eponine falls asleep. She opens her eyes to a bright light and sees Combeferre, playing crochet and dressed like some kind of schoolgirl. He has a red blazer with shoulder pads and a blue plaid miniskirt, plus a long blond wig that’s held back by Enjolras’ scrunchie.

“Um?” Eponine asks. Combeferre lifts his mallet onto his shoulder and scowls at her. “What the fuck?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Combeferre asks, looking shockingly severe, even in heels and thigh high argyle socks.

“I think I’m dreaming?” Eponine replies, because she’s still kind of thrown by the whole clothing thing.

Combeferre rolls his eyes. “Duh. I meant with that weird, John Travolta wannabe boy? We Jeans have a  _ reputation _ to keep up.”

“It’s just a hookup-”

“It’s  _ never _ just a hookup,” Combeferre snaps, flipping his ponytail over his shoulder in a move that’s so similar to Enjolras that it’s a bit creepy. “You better get yourself together, Eponine Thenardier.”

“Look, no matter how hot you look in that skirt, you’re not my mom. This is my dream and I’m waking up.” Eponine begins to force herself to wake up, but Combeferre starts talking before she can completely awaken. 

“Fine! Just don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

* * *

 

Eponine jolts up, spooking Montparnasse awake as well.

“Wass’ goin’ on?” He asks, voice heavy with sleep.

Eponine glances at the clock, it’s only 8:20. Her head is pounding but she doesn’t feel nauseous, so she wants nothing more than to just curl back up with the attractive boy next to her and go back to sleep.

“Nothing, just a bad-”

A loud tone interrupts her. Eponine groans, not because it’s the Jeans or even because of the tone itself, but because that’s Marius’ ringtone. She picks up the phone to turn it off, but she catches sight of the picture--an accidental selfie where Marius  _ somehow _ looks even goofier than normal. Her finger hovers over the decline call button.

“Hello?” She answers. Montparnasse groans at the noise, so she dodges his clingy hands and slips out to the hall. 

“‘Ponine?” Marius whispers, “‘Ponine, I feel  _ awful _ .”

“Hangover?” She asks, and his pained whine is answer enough. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be over with a cure. Have you heard from R?”

“I called him first. He said not to contact him for another 12 hours.”

“Good, he’s still alive. I’ll see you soon.”

She hangs up and tiptoes back into Montparnasse’s room to get dressed. 

“Leaving so soon?” Montparnasse is still in bed, still undressed, and probably still unhappy that Eponine got up.

“Baby’s first hangover. You know how it is.”

Montparnasse hums and when Eponine looks up, he’s throwing on a pair of sweats.

“What are you doing?”

Montparnasse finishes putting on his shirt and grabs his jacket. “I’ll drive you. It’s too early for such a pretty girl to be out alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll get mugged by the kids playing hopscotch on the corner.” Eponine rolls her eyes and gestures at her hickey-ridden skin. “You can come, but I doubt that’d be able to do anything worse than what you’ve done to my neck.”

“What can I say,” Montparnasse shrugs, “I’m possessive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dubcon: ep and monty sleep together offscreen and even tho ep says she consents, shes _extremely_ drunk and cant rly consent


	6. a cold, uncaring planet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Marius grins up at her before taking the mug with a small grimace. “It looks gross.”_   
>  _“Them’s the breaks. It doesn’t taste good either,” She says, “It’s better just to throw it back like a shot.”_   
>  _“I will pay you to never say shot ever again."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for sort of death and sort of suicide. also ep is _considerably_ less badass but also she's like 17 and she's scared, so.
> 
> also, i've been told that i should dedicate this chapter to my very own grantaire/montparnasse fusion of a friend, so. this ones for u kiddo <3
> 
> ive tried to post this chapter _f o u r t i m e s_

Mr. Gillenormand’s car isn’t in the drive when Montparnasse pulls up—thank _god_ —so she comes in through the kitchen door.

“Marius?” Eponine calls. There’s a muffled groan in response. Eponine rolls her eyes and turns to get started.

“Guess your boy’s up?”

Eponine jumps, spinning around and glaring at Montparnasse. “Jesus Christ, warn a girl before you jump out of nowhere.”

“Sorry,” He shrugs and starts rummaging around the cabinets. “How strong of a cure are we talking?”

Eponine sighs, pulling an egg out of the fridge and a mug out of the cabinet. “He met the ‘love of his life’ and lost her in the same night. And, besides the Cinderella story, I think it was his first party, so.”

“You don’t seem too happy for him.”

“Well,” Eponine says, irrationally defensive at the feel of Montparnasse’s eyes burning into her back. “I don’t want my friend to be hungover.”

Montparnasse hums. “I bet he wishes he was dead right now.”

Eponine doesn’t respond, too busy making a Prairie Oyster, but she does when Montparnasse slams another mug down and pours a liberal amount of drain cleaner into it. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“This’ll help, right? You can’t be hungover if you’re dead.” He smirks, and suddenly it’s repulsive instead of charming. Eponine recoils and he sighs. “Hey, babe, I was just joking, okay?”

Eponine is still mad because _What the fuck_ , but he kisses her and, well, the things that that boy can do with his mouth are _sinful_. She pulls away when she hears a low groan from the direction of the staircase.

“'Ponine," Marius whines, "I think I'm dying, ‘s that you?”

Eponine swipes the mug off of the counter and dutifully climbs the stairs until she comes upon Marius’ room. “Hey, I brought you something.”

“You’re the best, ‘Ponine,” Marius grins up at her from a blanket cocoon. He shuffles out before taking the mug with a small grimace. “It looks gross.”

“Them’s the breaks. It doesn’t taste good either,” She says, “It’s better just to throw it back like a shot.”

“I will pay you to never say shot _ever again_ ,” Marius groans pitifully, then he chugs it. His face screws up and he starts to cough.

“Come on, you can take a pint of vodka but not a little oyster?”

When he doesn’t reply and the coughing worsens, Eponine begins to grow concerned. “Marius?”

Marius’ face grows pallid and he barely manages to choke out, “Shots!” before he falls back on the bed, silent.

“Marius, oh my god, Marius,” Eponine breathes, putting her fingers on his unnaturally still, unnaturally cold neck. “Oh my god, _I killed him_.”

A noise comes from behind her and it’s Montparnasse because _of course it is_. He hums, sounds far too unconcerned when _her friend is dead_. “Well, he’s definitely dead.” Montparnasse picks up the mug. “Oh, looks like you poisoned him.”

“What?” Eponine snatches the mug away, blinking at the bit of blue residue left in the bottom. _Drain cleaner._ “Oh my god! I-I didn’t mean to!”

“Can you guess how often the cops hear that?” Montparnasse snorts. “It doesn’t matter your intent, you killed him. You say he met the love of his life last night? They’ll probably paint you as a scorned lover. I could call the police for you, if you’d like.”

“Why would you-“

“You committed a crime, you killed a kid in his prime. It’s jail now… unless…”

“Unless?” Eponine echos, desperate and shaking and _scared_.

“Well, I’ve known people who’ve covered up murders before. It's easy to make it look like a suicide. And you’re good with forgeries, right?”

“Yes, but what does that-?” Eponine stop short when he pulls his motorcycle gloves out of his pocket and slips them on. She watches in fascinated horror as he moves Marius’ body to the edge of the bed, positions his hand properly, drops the mug onto the ground. _I’m staging a suicide_ , she thinks, but she _can’t_ stop it. When Montparnasse hands her a piece of Marius’ favorite notebook paper, she automatically starts imitating his soft, looping handwriting.

_I’m sorry, I was in a hard place, I needed love and I got none_ , She writes, _Give to the poor, help people who are like me, don’t let another kid slip through the cracks_. She’s penning Marius’ faux last words, the words that everyone will remember him for. Her sight blurs with tears as she finishes it up, signing with a Marius’ flourish.

Montparnasse pats her on the back. “Nice job. The tears are a good touch, makes it seem more believable.”

She wants to glare at him, to blame him because _Who the fuck puts_ drain cleaner _in a fucking_ mug _?_ but she’s the one that just signed this paper, that didn’t even _try_ to explain to anyone that _it was an accident_.  She takes a deep breath.

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

On Monday, she’s jumpy. She knows she’s jumpy--she’s done bad stuff before but never anything _this bad_ \--but no one calls her out on it because all the whispers in the hall are _“Did you hear about Pontmercy?”_ and _“Holy shit, did you read the letter?”_ and _“I can’t believe he’s dead!”_

Everyone’s pretending that they were nice to him--which is _beyond_ untrue--and Eponine wants to punch someone, specifically someone who’s shedding crocodiles tears over ‘Poor Marius Pontmercy’. She’s so concerned about looking innocent and being angry that she completely forgets about Grantaire until she runs into him in the hall.

“Shit, sorry,” He says, wiping vigorously at his eyes. He looks up and blinks at her. “‘Ponine?”

Eponine winces at the sound of her nickname, a nickname given by Marius. Grantaire grimaces apologetically.

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot that’s- I mean, that _was_ his thing,” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. Everything about him is disheveled, now that Eponine is really looking; his clothes are rumpled and stained more than usual, he has deep bags, and eyes are bloodshot. _I did this to him_ , Eponine thinks, _This is my fault_. “Hey, are you okay?”

Eponine laughs sharply, bitterly, “Am _I_ okay? R, jesus, look at yourself!”

“Look, Eponine, I’m fine. I just had a rough weekend and then Marius and," Grantaire's breath catches in his throat and he rubs savagely at his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. "And I can't believe I didn't see this coming, you know? Like, you think you know a person and-"

Grantaire's voice cracks and he completely cuts himself off this time, body shaking with a sob. Eponine blinks back tears of her own.

"Oh, R! It's not your fault!"

Eponine starts, because that voice was neither her nor Grantaire, and yet still shockingly familiar. There, floating by her left shoulder is Marius, pajama-clad as he was when he died and frowning with concern.

"Come on, 'Ponine," Ghost Marius says, pausing to cough, "Tell R what really happened. He doesn't deserve this."

_Oh my god_ , Eponine thinks, _I'm going batshit._

Ghost Marius shrugs casually, but the gesture is ruined by another bout of hacking coughs. "Maybe. But, hey, if I'm a figment of your imagination, can you at least get rid of the cough? I can taste bile and rust drainer every time it happens, not to mention the pain that hacking up a lung brings."

"But you're _dead_ ," Eponine says, and Grantaire looks up sharply, eyes still wet.

"Um, are you sure you're alright?" He asks cautiously, "Like, you don't need to lie down or something?"

_What do you think, ghost Marius? Would a nap make you go away?_

"Probably not," Ghost Marius admits cheerfully. Eponine sighs.

"Don't worry about it, R. I'm fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahah we're basically at the end of my pre-written stuff. pray for me guys
> 
> but yeah, thanks @ everyone for kudos-ing and commenting


	7. in order to be happy she had to give up her power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Shut up, Jean,” Eponine stands._  
>  _It takes a moment for the Jeans realize that it wasn’t directed at Courfeyrac, that Combeferre isn’t the one who ordered it. They all stare at Eponine in varying degrees of shock and anger._  
>  _“_ Excuse me _?” Enjolras asks, his voice high and offended, “Did you tell me to shut up?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day early!!! bc i have no school tmrw and i intend to sleep for 15+ hrs. dedicated to byrd and connor and littlepalma, who propel me into aggressively writing so i can keep this "once a week" thing up
> 
> before u get started on this, i feel like i should tell y’all that both combeferre and r are gonna get spin-off fics in this ‘verse. combeferres should be posted after maybe 3 more chapters, so, be prepared for that. they’re both sad and they’re both gonna hurt u hahahaha
> 
> tw for suicide and suicide shaming???? tldr enj is a dick

“Students,” The principal's voice comes over the PA system, “In light of recent events, we’ve decided to release school early.”

The school erupts into excitement and Eponine has to admit that she’s happy. The sooner she’s out of here, the better. Ghost Marius, who may or may not be real, has been harassing her _all_ _day_ and it’s a bit tiring. She thinks that her day might be looking up until the principal continues.  
“ _However_ , the buses are still getting here, so the next 30 minutes will be spent in the gym talking about how this weekend’s events have affected you.”

Ghost Marius gasps and does a little excited flip in the air, “An assembly just for _me_!”

Eponine makes her way down to the auditorium dejectedly. _Well_ , she thinks, trying to find _some_ bright side to this, _At least I haven’t seen the_ -

“Eponine!” Two different voices yell from opposite sides of the gym. On the left is Montparnasse at the top of the bleachers, looking as put-together as usual and smirking at her. On the right, Courfeyrac is waving to her from the gym floor, his trademark yellow polo clashing horribly with a pair of salmon shorts; the rest of the Jeans are there as well, all looking at her expectantly.

“Are you seriously going to sit with _them_?” Ghost Marius asks, frowning in a way that he never did in life, “They’re the reason I’m dead, sort of. If it hadn’t been for them taking you away or their party or Enjolras’ sister, we’d be sitting together laughing about Mr. Hugo’s terrible handwriting right now.”

“Shut up, Marius,” Eponine mutters, even though she sort of thinks that he’s right and even despite the odd looks she gets for it. She smiles sadly at Montparnasse and turns to join the Jeans. When she gets there, Enjolras is disgruntled.

“Was that new kid calling you?” He asks, scrunching up his nose, “I know it’s bad to profile people but… he looks _unsavory_.”

Combeferre nods from beside him, “That isn’t the type of person that a Jean should be seen with, Eponine.”  
“Good thing my name isn’t Jean, then,” Eponine grumbles, but before Combeferre’s sharp look can turn into sharper words, Ms. Simplice clears her throat from the front of the room.

“Now, now, everyone settle down,” Ms. Simplice says in a soft voice. She teaches Freshman English and the rumor is that she was once apart of one of those hippy religious cults, but she’s nice enough. After everyone’s quieted, she nods and continues, “Now, we’re going to section you off and you all can talk about what you’re feeling.”  
Other teachers come around and lump kids together and Eponine, of course, is stuck in a group with the Jeans and two kids she doesn’t know.

Jehan talks about how _poetic_ the note had sounded, Courfeyrac shrugs and makes a joke about party withdrawal, Combeferre doesn’t say anything; One of the other kids says that she didn’t even know who Marius was before today but “His suicide note was, like, super pretty, and everyone is saying he was an okay guy” and the other admits that he stole Marius’ lunch money once and he feels “Sort of bad. I guess.” Ghost Marius is obviously unhappy with their words, he even sticks his tongue out at the lunch money boy, but he doesn’t say anything so Eponine thinks she may actually get through this whole thing pretty okay. And then Enjolras stands up to talk.

“I may not have known young,” He pauses until Jehan whispers _Marius_ _Pontmercy_ , “Young Marius Pontmercy, but I am _certain_ that he wouldn’t want his death to be so _sensationalized_. There are _so many_ other issues that our school could be focusing on but here we are, spending _valuable class time_ on this spectacle! What does this teach kids? That if you commit suicide, you get an assembly in your honor and your fellow classmates get a day off?” Enjolras huffs and tosses his ponytail over his shoulder, “I can’t believe that the administration is participating in this _fetishization_ of _suicide_ -”

“Shut up, Jean,” Eponine stands, unable to let Enjolras just say that about Marius.

It takes a moment for the Jeans realize that it wasn’t directed at Courfeyrac (Courfeyrac even mutters a reflexive “Sorry, Jean” before he can stop himself), that Combeferre isn’t the one who ordered it. When they do, they all stare at Eponine in varying degrees of shock and anger.

“ _Excuse me_?” Enjolras asks, his voice high and offended, “Did you tell me to _shut up_?”

“Yes, I did,” Eponine snaps, ignoring the way that Combeferre’s glare sharpens, “You have no idea what you’re talking about, like _ever_ , and you’re being a dick. Someone _died_ , Enjolras, don’t you get that?”

Enjolras blanches, leans away from her furious snarl, but Combeferre stands and steps into her space. “I suggest that you remember your place, Thenardier.”

“My place?” She laughs, it’s sharp and bitter and sounds a bit too close to a sob, “My place is _definitely_ not anywhere near _any_ of you.” She takes off her jacket, the pretty grey one that Jehan had given her on that first day, and throws it at Combeferre’s feet. “You can have your silly group and your dumb rules and _everything_. I’m going back to obscurity.”

Combeferre is enraged, but it’s Jehan that speaks next.

“No you aren’t,” He says, softly. Eponine’s eyes snap to him. “You can’t be a nobody anymore. Now you’re an _ex_ -somebody.”

Courfeyrac joins in, his charming smile twisted into something cruel, “Everyone knows that you had a chance to be Somebody, and half the school thinks you’re fucking us. Come tomorrow, when you’re not with us anymore, what’s everyone going to think?”

“I don’t care what everyone thinks,” She says with the hope that saying will make it so.

Combeferre laughs, harsh and wicked. “Sure you don’t, Eponine. No one thinks they care, until they see everything fall away from them firsthand.”

“I know who I’m going to sit with tomorrow, in my classes, before school, at lunch,” Enjolras says, then continues with his voice filled with mock polite curiosity, “Do you?”

Eponine steps back, stumbles back, at the looks of sadistic amusement on all the Jean’s faces. She didn’t want any of this, not really, and now she has a dead best friend and she’s made enemies of the most popular boys in school. God, she had just wanted to be _liked_ , was that such a crime? She considers grovelling but she’s done with doing stuff just to be accepted. She straightens up her shoulders. She turns around and walks away, but their words still ring in her head. Where else does she have to go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, crying as i write: EPONINE YOU STILL HAVE R PLEASE GO TO HIM AND NOT SOMEONE ELSE EPONINE PLEASE
> 
> this chapter was fun to write, especially since i wrote the majority of it in one sitting. i shifted ep’s fight w the jeans to post-marius’ death bc if combeferre and/or enj wasn't gonna die after the party, there was no reason for her to cut connections w the jeans then. now however………….
> 
> anyway! hope you enjoyed! comment, kudos, etc


	8. [interlude]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER SHORT CHAPTER long story short i got really into spring awakening and i forgot about this fic but SOMEONE ON TWITTER REMINDED ME so here i am ;)
> 
> make sure you're subscribed to the series because TOMORROW NIGHT a short jehan fic will be posted and LATER THIS WEEK ill post the chapter that deals w meeting monty's parents+Blue

Eponine hides out in the bathroom because she has nowhere else to turn. She only has to be here for another 10 minutes, then they’ll release everyone else and she can disappear into the crowd and go home and-

Then what? For tomorrow and the day after that and every day until graduation, what will she do? 

“Jesus,” She says to herself and the empty bathroom, “What have I done?”

He phone chimes, shocking her in the relative silence of the bathroom.

_ whered you go _ , a text from Montparnasse says.

**_Bathroom_ ** , she responds,  **_You know how it is._ **

_ gross _ , he responds, then,  _ my dad wants to meet you _ .

Eponine frowns down at her phone. Are they at the meeting each other’s parent’s level? Is this a normal relationship thing?  **_Sure. When?_ **

_ right now? _

Okay then. Eponine looks down at herself. She looks nice because she’s still wearing her hair the way that Jehan told her to and she’s still wearing the clothes that Combeferre brought, but does she look  _ Meet The Parents _ nice?

**_Okay. Where do I meet you?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HOLDING ON EVEN THO IM THE WORST AT UPDATING AND ALSO FOR OVERALL READING THIS

**Author's Note:**

> [Main Tumblr](http://www.liveinlivingcolor.tumblr.com) | [Writing Blog](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/squidias)
> 
> (sort of) cast list:  
> enj as red heather  
> combeferre as green heather  
> courf as yellow heather  
> jehan as (bonus) blue heather  
> eponine as veronica (her color is grey haha)  
> montparnasse as jd  
> grantaire as martha dunnstock  
> marius as betty finn (sort of)


End file.
